Homecoming Gift

“There’s a table not far from the Bar,” I said as I led my two friends into ‘The George and Dragon’ that fateful Thursday evening.

We all sat down and I fished a £20 note out of my Wallet.

“Jayne, be a darling and get them in. Mines a glass of Merlot. If you ask the barman nicely, I understand that he has a very nice bottle of St Emillion behind the bar with my name on it.”

Jayne and my other friend Donna were with me to celebrate a promotion and to do a bit of business at the same time.

We’d been in the pub about half an hour when two men came into the bar. After ordering and getting their drinks they looked around the bar. It didn’t take them long to spot us.

They came ambling over to us trying to look nonchalant but in my opinion failing miserably.

“Well hello Ladies, you don’t mind if we join you do you?”

“Yes we bloody well do mind,” I retorted.

One of the men looked at me sternly.

Then a smile broke out on his face.

“Well, well. Look what the dog dragged home. If it isn’t that faggot that goes by the name of Jeremy Phillips.”

He laughed and carried on.

“You know Tommo, I promised this bit of shit a really good time if he dared show his faggot face in this town again. Well he’s back, drinking in MY pub with two of his faggot mates. How’s about that then?”

Tommo said,

“Bobby, the two mates are women.”

"They are probably lessies then. They have to be queer to be seen in public with that shithead.”

Then he grabbed me by my jacket collar and dragged me to my feet. I did my best to remain straight faced.

“Bobby,” said Tommo, “Not here there are far too many witnesses.”

This didn’t deter Bobby at all.

“I’ll kill anyone who say a word about what it about to happen. You know what happens to people who grass to the plod around here. They end up in the river with their tongues cut out,” said Bobby almost shouting.

Then he turned his attention back to me.

“Now shithead faggot you are going to get what I promised you if you ever dared show your faggot face around here.”

Without waiting for a reply, he swung a punch at me. I dodged as best I could. It landed on my shoulder. He grinned.

“Oh well, faggot face is going to put up a fight. Well, I am going to enjoy this. You have no fucking chance.”

He swung again. A real ‘haymaker’ this time. I caught it with one hand and then grabbed his wrist with the other. I twisted it hard and he let out a ‘yelp’.

I didn’t let go but carried on twisting. Now his arm was mine. I held it like that by gripping the arm just above the elbow and forced it straight.

A look of surprise spread over his face.

I took my chance and threw him to the floor where upon Jayne put a high heeled foot on his neck. He was going nowhere.

Tommo saw what was happening and tried to make a dash for the door. Two uniformed officers happened to be coming through it at that instant. He ran smack into them.

I knelt down hard on Bobby’s back. He went ‘ooof’.

I grabbed his hands and took the pair of handcuffs that were being offered to me by Donna.

Then as I clicked them shut, I said, “Robert Alfred Simpson, you are under arrest for assault on a Police Officer as well as a hate crime the exact nature of which is yet to be determined. Anything you say will be taken down in evidence and used against you in a court of law. Do you understand what I have just said?”

“What? You are a fucking police faggot now? I didn’t know that they let in faggots. Anyway, no one here will speak against me if they know what is good for them.”

“We don’t need anyone to speak against you. We have it all on high quality video tape complete with sound.”

I stood up to let the Uniformed officer take him away.

“Deal with this piece of trash Constable.”

“My pleasure Maam. He’s been a thorn in our side for a long time.”

“I know and in mine for a lot longer than that.”

“What?” said an incredulous Bobby.

“You are a fucking bitch now?”

I smiled and stood up to him.

“Yes I am and it is all down to you. The last time we met you stabbed me to quote, ‘so that the faggot can’t fuck anyone ever’.”

I paused for effect.

“Well Bobby, it was the spur that I needed to become the woman I always knew I wanted to be. But you are going down for a very long time indeed. I think a charge of ‘Attempted Murder’ would go down very nicely with the CPS.”

The Uniformed officer frisked Bobby and found two flick knives. He was known for carrying at least one.

“Maam, he was carrying these.”
I smiled.

“That’s another 10 years added to your sentence. Take him away Constable. Do it by the book. No deviations at all.”

“Understood Maam.”

"I think it is time to go back to the station. I want to get rid of this binding off my chest it is causing me no end of jip I can tell you. And then I want to lock him into the cells personally.”

My two fellow officers laughed.
“Was this why you took this posting Maam?”

“A big part of it Donna. Well, that and to get made up to Super. You can lay off the Maam crap when we are in places like this. We don't need to draw undue attention to ourselves now do we eh?”

As we left the bar, I pulled off the male wig that I'd been wearing. My real hair was a mess but for the moment it didn't matter one little bit.

I did walk out of the pub with my head held high. That was a first for me in this town since almost forever. It was my town now and I was going to clean it up. My first day on the job would send out a message that the new ‘head Plod’ meant business. I was home to stay.

[the end]

[authors note]
This is a little something that I dashed off after reading a report in a local newspaper about two men who'd terrorised three women in a Pub. These two picked on the wrong three women.



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